Holding Up the Sky
by AwkwardedOut
Summary: Fate was cruel. This, Gokudera Hayato knew well. In one hand, She held his hopes and dreams; in the other hand lay his past, present, and future. She flung the pieces in the air to drop, land, shatter; he scrambled to salvage all he could.
1. Incessant Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

AN: The story takes place in a parallel universe; approximately around the Ten Years Later (TYL) timeline.

**Incessant Storm:**

_To be at the heart of every battle, the driving force behind every attack; he is the turbulent Storm that yields to none._

Blasts rang out across the grounds, followed by surprised yells and the sound of running feet as people hurried toward the flames that clung to the outer walls. Gokudera ran with them, Yamamoto keeping pace at his side, until they reached the inner courtyard.

"You remember where you're supposed to go?" Gokudera asked.

"Yeah," Yamamoto replied. Gokudera nodded and began heading toward the stairs, but stopped at Yamamoto's next words. "Don't die, yeah?"

He glanced back at the baseball idiot, who appeared grim. It was a look that had become all too common on the once carefree face. Unsure of how else to respond, he summoned up a scowl and said, "You should worry more about yourself."

"I guess you're right." Yamamoto let out his characteristic laugh.

Gokudera couldn't muster up the energy to be annoyed, because there was no humor in those eyes, and the tone sounded forced. So he turned away, pretending he hadn't noticed; at any rate, pointing it out wouldn't achieve anything.

"Get going," he muttered, and then began bounding up the steps two at a time to carry out his own duties.

At each station along the way, he discovered that their mounted floodlights had been destroyed in the attack. Cursing loudly, he kept climbing until he had reached the tower that overlooked the stronghold, where he could assess the damage using the illumination from the fires—an aftereffect of the attack.

The wall had held; there were some pits caused by the explosions, but the structure did not fall—probably because their floodlights had been the primary targets of the assault. The sigh of relief caught in his throat as, out of the corner of his eye, he caught the eerie scarlet tint of the blaze. As he watched, they spread across the wall's surface, climbing over the edge and spilling down the side. The tendrils appeared to prod and jab the cracks, as if seeking entrance to the more vulnerable wooden supports that lay behind the stone. He realized with a silent dread that these were not natural flames; they had a will, and it was to destroy the stronghold from within.

Gokudera shouted for the rain attribute users to put out the flames, and for the rest of the men to focus on guarding the perimeter. Even as he called out these orders, he scowled at the terrain below. Somehow, enemy forces had managed to penetrate the outer defenses and launch an assault on their headquarters. In the darkness of the night, they had been caught unawares. Even now, shadows danced at the edges of the land, slowly pushing back the light cast by the flames. But were they merely shadows, or were they enemy soldiers lying in wait? What was worse, they had no source of light since their equipment had been demolished in the initial assault, and the glow from the storm flames wasn't worth the potential damage to the interior structure.

As the blaze was quelled, darkness descended upon them once more. Barely a second passed before a rainbow of colors streaked through the air, heading straight for the defenders. Shouts from below reached him as a wave of attackers rushed the walls.

From his vantage point, Gokudera could see their enemies' true image in the brief illumination from their assaults. Their uniform confirmed what he had already known—the compound was under attack from Byakuran's forces.

Mouth set in a grim line, the Storm Guardian joined his men and commenced the counterattack. Blasts from box weapons continuously shot at the building's base, interspersed with bullets, felling more than one Millefiore soldier.

Gokudera defended his sector and fought alongside his subordinates with precision and skill. No longer was he the rash teenage boy who haphazardly threw explosives every which way, caring for no one's safety, including his own. Now, he was the Vongola's right hand; he had a responsibility to the men who put their trust in him and placed their lives in his hands.

Another explosion shook the battlements, throwing defenders off the stone tower and into the fray below. Gokudera felt himself go over and immediately curled his arms over his head. A moment later, there was a jarring impact that nearly caused him to black out. He didn't know how long he lay in the wreckage, enduring the sharp pains of stone pummeling flesh as debris rained over his head, but he couldn't stay down. Without sparing his injuries a second thought, he forced his beaten and bloodied body back up. Pain shot through him with each action, but he only gritted his teeth and put another foot forward. There was no time to rest.

He shoved the pain to the back of his mind, to be experienced in all its glory later, assuming he survived. For now, all of his attention was focused on the battle as he leapt into the melee with all he had.

The battle raged all around, and in the dark, the distinction between ally and foe was difficult to make. He could only shoot, hope, pray that after the discharge from his weapon, it wasn't the face of a friend on the other side of that momentary ray of light.

The relief he felt as each white-clad individual fell was always short-lived; for each enemy he defeated, two would immediately surge forward to take the person's place, guided by the light of his attack. The Millefiore was a resourceful group with endless warriors at its disposal. Outnumbered, even the Vongola found itself hard-pressed in battle, but that didn't stop Gokudera from carrying out his duties. Consecutive bursts from his box weapon set the soldiers alight, their agonized voices drawing others like moths to a flame before they too were consumed by the fire.

He weaved across the battlefield, never in one place long. He took out groups of twos and threes, leaving explosions and screams in his wake. A taut smile spread across his features as he set his traps. Dynamite may not have held much weight against the rings and box weapons of the new era, but he had fought with them since adolescence, and he knew their uses. In the dark, amidst the noise of battle, on the ground strewn with rubble—that was their advantage.

By the time friendly reinforcements arrived, Gokudera had long ago moved on down the field, his consecutive attacks helping to clear a path for Vongola's fighters to gain the upper hand. Breathing ragged, body sore, blood flowing from various parts on his person—still he forged ahead, never slowing down, filling craters with bodies as he crossed paths with the opposition.

Gokudera Hayato was the Storm. It was an undeniable part of his very being—his relentless devotion to the Vongola Tenth, his incessant attacks in the heart of battle, his flaring temper that could be ignited with the smallest spark, his tumultuous past that haunted him still. He was the Storm, and nothing short of dropping dead would stop the tempest.

* * *

After what felt like the span of several years rather than only a few hours, the first hint of day peeked over the horizon. With it, the Millefiore forces were finally pushed into retreat, their numbers diminished by half.

With the threat neutralized for the time being, the medical team rushed out to collect the injured. Gokudera refused the medics who approached him. They attempted to get him on a stretcher, but no one tried to actually touch him. He was the Vongola's second-in-command, and he wasn't exactly known for his warm and gentle personality. Not to mention, a box weapon was still strapped to his arm, and he wasn't averse to using it for defending his personal space.

He made several fervent denials that he had received anything more than a couple of scratches, and with a scowl, ordered the dubious medics to help the truly injured. The command was accompanied with much yelling and baring of teeth until the flinching men finally left him alone. He saw them cast uncertain glances over their shoulders every other step, but ignored it.

Uttering a grunt, he heaved himself up and headed for the closest sector. The baseball idiot hadn't responded with a situation report; neither had Hibari, but that arrogant jerk hadn't taken an earpiece at all, refusing to have the rest of them invading his head with their annoying voices. Yamamoto had probably just had his knocked off and broken amidst all the fighting.

Gokudera resolved to give the careless idiot a long scolding when he found him.


	2. Cleansing Rain

Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

**Cleansing Rain:**

_To become a blessed shower that settles conflict; the Rain that washes away all strife._

He shook the man in the shredded suit with all his might, shouting at the idiot to stop fooling around. A smack to the head was executed without result. Had there been strength in his legs to stand, a swift kick would have been delivered to the ribs for the horrible and inappropriate joke. He couldn't bear to linger on the multiple large punctures that spread across the chest and abdominal region of the man, characterized by shredded skin and gaping holes. Exhausted, eyes prickling with gathering water, the cold, heavy, bloody weight was lowered back to the ground.

There was a blast in the distance; the sound resembled the rumble of thunder. Thunder meant rain, and as if on cue, warm drops rolled down his cheeks.

Yamamoto's had been the smile of the tenth generation, of Vongola's image—that ceaseless, unwavering, idiotic smile that had always infuriated Gokudera to no end. That was no more. Death had wiped that amused expression from the man's face and replaced it with a contortion.

Gokudera cast his eyes elsewhere, anywhere but at the Rain Guardian, instead focusing on the seemingly innocuous bamboo sword by his leg—and yet his vision remained haunted by the brown eyes clouded by death, the mouth twisted in agony, the comrade who had been slain. Even after his many years in the Mafia and his hardened composure from the daily exposure to death since Byakuran's rise to power, it was a difficult sight to swallow.

Bitter irony crashed down upon him as black, white, and red amalgamated in his vision. Vongola and Millefiore, combatants from both sides were strewn across the earth all around him. There was no line of tape that separated the fallen, nothing that said, "_This side is where you die__. H__ere is where I die."_

Friend or foe, they all bled red, and they were all equal now, for death didn't discriminate.

He had to pull himself together; this wasn't the time to stare off into space. War had its casualties, always; no side was ever left unscathed. He knew this and he used this truth to steel himself for his next task. Beneath the lightening sky, hands—made steady through sheer willpower—returned to that cold, lifeless body.

First was the band of metal that wrapped around the man's finger. As it slid off, it left behind a circle of skin that wasn't as dark as the rest. In one hand, the ring remained tightly clasped; the other hand, made increasingly clumsy by shame, rummaged around awkwardly inside the tattered black cloth, feeling for the objects he knew to be there. He felt like a grave robber, searching in the remains of his comrade's corpse—of his _friend's_ corpse_._ Several minutes had ticked by before his fingers finally scraped across the sharp edge of cool metal—first one, then another.

There was a rustle of cloth from behind.

Whipping around, he spotted a Millefiore soldier who had been attempting to sneak up on him. Resolution erupted from the storm Vongola Ring in the form of a blazing red flame. He was just about to insert the energy into his box when his brain registered a different sensation. Coolness lapped at his flesh, spreading a feeling of peace and calm through his body from the point of contact.

The one second of distraction was enough for the enemy to strike. He dodged instinctively, but was punished for his lack of focus with a graze across the shoulder. The sharp pain returned his attention to the enemy. Backing up to gain enough space to maneuver, something crunched and rolled beneath his feet. A second later, he found himself staring up at the sky and a masked figure—arms held high, a scythe encased in green, a killer about to strike.

Staring death in the face, Gokudera could only search about frantically for something, _anything_.

There, a foot from where he was sprawled, a long, thin object rested point down, its tip buried in a man. Instinct commandeered his body and the next thing Gokudera knew, his arm had pulled the blade from its resting place and found it a new home. The scythe clattered to the ground, its dying sparks illuminating the fine red mist that adorned the Storm Guardian's face.

The enemy soldier, now merely dead weight, slid further down the sword plunged into his abdomen. The Guardian planted a boot on the other's chest, using the leverage to kick the carcass free.

Another body hit the ground.

Now, alone in a sea of corpses, he opened his hand. It was faint, but he could see the luminous blue flame that danced atop the image of raindrops carved upon the metal, an undulating wave upon the sea. Suddenly, a weight inside him shifted and he felt lighter than he had in days.

That was the power of the Rain.

* * *

They had held a quick funeral service that morning. No words had been uttered as the pyre was set alight, only silent farewells and concealed tears as the color bled into the horizon, ushering in the new day—one that he hadn't been particularly keen on witnessing. Little by little, the congregated dispersed, returning to their duties.

As unbearable as the atmosphere outside had been, the one that met Gokudera inside the halls felt even more disconcerting. Emptiness filled the hallway; silence resonated in his ears; with every passing second, it became more deafening. His strides quickened as he hurried to escape the absence of sound—more specifically, the absence of that irritating laughter traveling down the passageway.

Relief washed over him as his ears finally caught hold of familiar voices, their speech filling the void. Throwing open the door, the room beyond greeted him with faces full of grief.

When Gokudera closed the door to the expansive study behind him, the inner circle was complete—what remained of it, anyway. The air was heavy with loss; none of them had expected to be hit with the death of someone so close. Even so, they had no time to mourn.

Despite heavy hearts and grim faces, Tsuna started the meeting, but an argument broke out less than five minutes in.

"How can you say that about your own friend?" Ryohei shouted at the apathetic man isolated from the rest of the group.

The person to whom the question had been directed was standing before a window in one corner of the study—the furthest he could be from everyone else while still being physically in the room. He turned away from the window now, setting detached gray eyes upon the other Guardian.

"Yamamoto Takeshi was not my friend. And I spoke only the truth—he died because he was weak."

To the surprise of those gathered, it was Gokudera who prevented Ryohei from lunging at Hibari. Even Lambo, who had been sniffling alone in another corner, looked up in incredulity.

"Let me go, Octopus-head! I'm going to pound some sense into that jerk!" Ryohei fought the other's hold, but Gokudera only restrained the boxer's arms more tightly.

Yamamoto had been the mediator in all of the Family's inner disputes, but the swordsman wasn't there anymore, so Gokudera took it upon himself to fulfill that role. The most prominent facet of Yamamoto's personality, his easy-going manner, had been the tranquility that calmed frayed nerves and mended broken ties. It was this aspect that Gokudera tried to emulate now.

"Stop it, Lawn-head! There shouldn't be fighting within the Family!"

Despite these words, Ryohei continued to strain towards Hibari, who pointedly ignored both them and Tsuna, who was unsuccessfully attempting to abate the tension. Fed up, Gokudera let go of the struggling man and quickly knocked him to the floor.

The Storm Guardian had tried the tranquil route; it hadn't worked. His own method yielded the desired result—the conflict had been resolved.

"What the hell was that for?" Ryohei shouted, already recovered from the strike despite the reddened jaw that would be swollen by night's end. "Didn't you just say we shouldn't fight in the Family?"

Gokudera took a deep breath. Now was the time for him to calm both parties with consolation and a cheerful tone.

"Look," he said, phrasing his words in the least offensive way he knew how, "Hibari's an inconsiderate bastard—we all know that by now."

When the others glanced over at the Cloud Guardian, Hibari's gaze had already returned to the view outside the glass; he didn't contest the statement.

"Regardless of what he says, Yamamoto was not weak. He fought until the very end and gave his life to defend the Vongola. It's enough that we know that."

Ryoehi shifted his gaze downward in shame. "You're right, Octopus-head. I'm sorry, Hibari," the Sun Guardian said, offering a truce.

"Apologies are for the weak," Hibari replied.

The sound of grinding teeth coupled with tightly clenching-and-unclenching hands dominated the room for several moments. Gokudera tensed, ready to grab Ryohei again if he made for Hibari, but the sounds eventually subsided.

Apparently having regained his composure, Ryohei posed the next question, "What do we do now? Byakuran won't just give up. He'll keep sending people after us until we're all dead."

"Lawn-head is right. That's what happened with the Giglio Nero Family after their young Boss was assassinated last year. And the Millefiore have been steadily taking out the smaller Families since then, including those from our own alliance."

"Well, what can we do?" Lambo whined. "We could barely defeat them this time, and now Yamamoto is dead." Silence greeted this statement.

"I have an idea," Gokudera spoke up. Looking around at the expectant faces directed at him, he let out his breath, and with it, his thoughts.

* * *

The shocked expressions that met his proposal sparked his annoyance. "What?" he snapped at the two gaping idiots, but seeing a similar look on Tsuna's features was like a splash of cold water to the face, putting out his rising temper.

"Gokudera… I can't let you do this. It's too much of a burden on you," Tsuna said.

"You don't think I can?" Gokudera asked, obviously distressed by his Boss' words.

"No, that's not it!" Tsuna sighed, as if unsure of how to proceed. "It's just that you're already working so hard, and have so many responsibilities as it is. I don't want to burden you with the task of being the Rain Guardian too."

"It's not a burden at all," Gokudera protested. He was touched to see his leader so concerned for him, but he couldn't back down. He had to do this; he was the only one who could.

"Besides, can you even light the Vongola Ring?" Ryohei asked.

"I wouldn't have made the suggestion if I couldn't," Gokudera replied, tone low and serious.

This assertion drew even Hibari's attention. Although there were people with waves of multiple attributes flowing through their bodies, it was rare for a person to actually be able to summon the different flames.

"I think all those explosions finally knocked his last screws loose," Lambo said, having apparently stoppered his tears in order to properly mock Gokudera.

"I'm serious," Gokudera ground out, reining in his urge to yell at the teenager. He knew he couldn't be the source of conflict in the Family anymore; he had to be the solution.

"Words are worthless, herbivore. If you can use the rain flame, then show us," Hibari said from the other side of the room.

"Fine," Gokudera said.

From his pocket, he drew out the rain Vongola Ring and slid the band onto his forefinger, next to its storm counterpart. Shortly, two flames flared from the two metal bands. In complete opposition to each other, one was red and blazing, hungry for fuel; the other, placid and blue, rose and fell like the waves.

Three sets of eyes stared at the flames incredulously.

"So the idiot wasn't just boasting," Hibari commented, his tone indifferent.

"Does anything that _isn't_ condescending ever come out of your mouth?" Gokudera growled.

A small smirk on his lips, Hibari turned to Tsuna. "You should let him take over the Rain Guardian's position. He might turn out to be useful… but I doubt it."

Tsuna still wasn't convinced, but none of the other Guardians objected to the assignment. As much trouble as Lambo and Ryohei gave Gokudera, they both clearly respected him and had faith in his abilities. Gokudera, for his part, had requested this himself—he wanted this. Although Tsuna didn't doubt his friend's capabilities, he couldn't help but wonder what the additional stress would do to the fervent man.

In the end, it was with a heavy heart that the decision was made. Reluctantly, Tsuna gave his consent.

Gokudera took up the Rain Guardian's mantle, inheriting all the duties—both physical and emotional—that the title entailed. But for just an instant, the Vongola Family's new smile wavered.


	3. Blazing Sun

Disclaimer: I do not own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

**Blazing Sun:**

_To be the brightly shining Sun that casts light upon the darkness._

The Vongola Tenth had set up a room specially to honor the fallen. It was a place where their comrades could remember those who had given their lives to protect the Family. Display cases lined every wall—some were empty, many were not. They held photos, charms, favorite guns—anything and everything the ones who survived thought characterized the deceased; the items placed on the other side of the glass were mementos that would keep their memories alive.

Gokudera was there now, standing before a long glass case at the far end of the office—a tribute to Yamamoto. He had retrieved the blade used in his disposal of the Millefiore soldier, one of the spares Yamamoto had taken into the field that night. Upon closer inspection, one-fourth of its length had snapped off and multiple cracks ran along its edge. In the end, they had decided not to include it. Instead, a baseball bat and a bamboo sword were on display. The bat still retained the good condition of a decade ago, when the game had been the most important thing in Yamamoto's life; the sword was the one Yamamoto's father had given him when he succeeded the Shigure Soen style. Both items represented the things of importance to the former Rain Guardian, but not everything that had defined the man had been placed inside.

"Who's going to succeed the Shigure Soen style now, you idiot?" he asked the empty room. Turning away, Gokudera left the quiet office, two new additions to his arsenal dangling from chains at his belt.

Returning to his duties, Gokudera began making his rounds, checking on all the lookout stations to make sure the guards were vigilant; this was not the time to be playing cards and watching football games. The safety of the compound was the first priority, and the camera feeds needed an eye on them at all times. Although recently, they had discovered even that wasn't enough. But it was still better than doing nothing at all.

As he was passing by the gates to the compound, a furious pounding ensued from the tall steel doors. It was accompanied by shouting at a volume of which only one person was capable.

Someone from the nearest post radioed down to the guards at the gate. "It's the Sun Guardian and he's injured!"

The men on the ground immediately set about pulling open the heavy doors. When the loudest of the Guardians stumbled inside, just barely managing to keep a limp body from sliding off his back, the gathered personnel could only stare. As the man collapsed on the cobbled ground a moment later, the crack of kneecaps against stone finally roused the onlookers into action, and someone rushed over to examine the Sun Guardian's injuries.

The lookout reported seeing pillars of smoke rising in the distance, in the approximate area where a nearby town was located. Gokudera ordered ten men to investigate the disturbance and take any necessary measures to ensure the townspeople's safety. He made sure some of those deployed were flame users, in case they came across the enemy. When they were gone, he turned his attention back to the two figures lying on the ground.

There were stringent security measures in place for members who were returning from the outside. These measures were set in place to ensure that all who entered the headquarters were indeed Vongola or from an allied Family, and not an illusionist attempting to infiltrate the castle.

Of course, the Sun Guardian had just blasted those regulations to smithereens—as always.

"What's the password?" Gokudera asked the man who wore Ryohei's features.

"I've forgotten it to the extreme!"

Gokudera winced at being subjected to the high volume in such close proximity. "What's the _password_?" He asked again, unwilling to forsake this last precaution.

"Sir, we need to get him to the medical bay," a subordinate told him.

"Not until he gets it right," he said sternly.

He saw the men exchange nervous glances with one another, their weapons pointed uncertainly at the Sun Guardian as per orders.

There was a long moment of silence, punctuated by the contorted expressions upon the boxer's features as he racked his mind; they would have been comical, had it not been for the dirt and grime that plastered his face. Just when Gokudera thought the man would explode with the effort, Ryohei opened his mouth and another denial came forth in a great bellow.

"I've _really_ forgotten it to the exteme!"

Gokudera could have sworn Ryohei's voice was echoing off the walls that surrounded the courtyard, traveling to the forest lining the field and down to the town in the distance. In the end, he finally granted his permission, allowing the injured Guardian to be taken to the base's infirmary along with the person brought in on his back.

As stretchers carried the two people into the main building, Gokudera reasoned to himself that the password had been a flimsy precaution at best, and the true Ryohei would not have been able to recall it anyway.

* * *

After he had told Tsuna about Ryohei's return and his injured state, Tsuna had immediately dropped everything and rushed to the medical bay. Now, the two of them stood by Ryohei's bedside, waiting anxiously as the doctor went over every inch of the man.

After a thorough examination, it was declared that Ryohei's injuries were not serious—merely scratches compared to some of the wounds he had received in the past—much to the relief of the others. According to the doctor, the best treatment for him was suitable rest; his body would do the rest.

Time and rest—they were luxuries best left to the dead, because the living couldn't afford them in the midst of a war. However, Gokudera knew that their Boss would only worry more if the idiot wore himself out doing something he wasn't supposed to, so he said nothing. Besides, the boxer would do them no good until he had regained his strength.

The doctor proceeded to clean Ryohei's wounds and stitch up the larger ones. The Guardian gritted his teeth and didn't say anything as the needle pulled through his skin repeatedly. Watching the procedure, Gokudera had to commend the guy for his stoic attitude. At least he was taking the pain like a man, unlike a certain crybaby Gokudera could name. When the doctor left the room, Ryohei suddenly spoke.

"Promise me one thing, Sawada. Promise me that Kyoko will be safe."

"Don't worry, brother. My dad already took Mom and the girls to a safe place. They'll have new identities and lead safe lives."

"Good. I knew I could count on you." With that, Ryohei closed his eyes and appeared to doze off.

For some reason, this statement left Gokudera with an ominous feeling. He did his best to shake it off; it was probably just paranoia on his part, after what had happened to Yamamoto. He then left his comrade to his slumber and headed to the next subject of his ever-lengthening To-Do List.

He had wanted to hold an interrogation with the stranger as soon as the two had entered the compound, but Ryohei had insisted that it was unnecessary. Well, Ryohei wasn't here to protest now, and Gokudera had to make sure this was not the enemy's attempt to infiltrate the base.

Entering the patient's room, Gokudera took a seat by the door and waited for the doctor to complete his examination. Once finished, the doctor reported the patient's condition to the right-hand man. It was more or less the same as Ryohei's had been. And since Gokudera didn't exactly have the best-known bedside manner, he was politely reminded to please not light any explosives while he was around expensive medical equipment. Then, with an uneasy glance back, the doctor exited the room, leaving Gokudera alone with the figure lying on the bed.

The town at the foot of the slope had been attacked by Millefiore forces—for what reason, he didn't know. It could have simply been because they were close to the stronghold, and the attack was to make the Vongola feel weak and powerless. By the time the team he had sent down to the town had arrived, it was already too late. The Millefiore had been long gone by that point, but they'd left a path of destruction in their wake. The townspeople had been massacred and the buildings had been set aflame. Only one person had survived, rescued by Ryohei, who had been on his way back to the Vongola base when he noticed the disturbance and went to investigate.

Gokudera moved his seat to the bedside. The screech of the chair legs against the linoleum should have alerted the person to his presence, but there was no indication of such.

"I know you're awake," he said to the back facing him.

After a moment, the person turned so that she faced the ceiling, splaying dark hair across the white pillow; closed lids opened to reveal large violet eyes. He surveyed the woman before him. Her skin bore scrapes and darkening bruises, but aside from those and one bandaged area on her lower arm, she was unharmed. The doctor had informed him that the injury on her arm was a long gash, but luckily there were no signs of infection; and it wasn't deep, so it would heal without problems.

Taking a thin black recording device out of his pocket, he placed it on the stand beside the bed. Her eyes followed the movement, but no other reaction was forthcoming, and her face remained completely impassive. With the press of a button, the device began to record.

"Tell me what happened today," he said, pad and pen at the ready.

When there was no response from the woman, he slammed his fist on the stand to get her attention, but the impact only startled her, causing her to cringe away from him and curl her body in on itself as if she was afraid she would be next. Taking in the fear prominent in her eyes, Gokudera cursed. Remembering that he had new responsibilities now, he took a deep breath and tried to ease the scowl on his features. He imagined the tranquil blue waves that flowed through his body calming his fiery temper, and repeated the request with what he hoped was a soothing tone. After what he felt was an inordinate amount of coaxing, she slowly unfurled herself little by little.

The progress was slow, and he had to resist the urge to shout at her for it; it would probably only cause her to retreat back into her shell. He couldn't help but think that Yamamoto would have had much better luck at this—he immediately pushed that thought back. Keeping the impatience at bay, Gokudera kept up the tedious task until she finally recounted her tale.

* * *

"The girl's name is Tanaka Nagi. She was born and raised in Japan, but was sent to Italy to live with distant relatives after being involved in a traffic accident. While she suffered no serious injuries, her parents felt that a different environment would be more suitable for her recovery. For the past ten years, she has lived with an uncle and aunt in the town below us. A thorough background check was done on her, and she came up clean." Gokudera looked up from the document in his hand once his report was finished.

"Is she okay?" Tsuna asked from behind his desk, looking concerned.

"The doctor says she'll recover."

Tsuna nodded, and some of the worry that creased his forehead eased. He then asked, "What about the attack yesterday?"

Gokudera slipped a file from the pile wedged under his arm and opened it. "By the time our agents arrived on the scene, the town had been set ablaze with what was determined to be storm attribute flames, like the attack that had taken out our floodlights. Rain box weapons—our newest prototypes from the development lab—were used to quell the flames."

"The town had no affiliation with the Vongola. Why would the Millefiore attack it?"

"They did it because they knew the Tenth would be wounded by their attack, and it would deal a blow to the Family's morale when a town of innocent people suffered in our stead. This is just the Millefiore's style—ruthless."

"Were there any survivors?" Tsuna asked in a low voice.

"The woman was the only one. She had been running from the Millefiore soldiers when Turf-Top found her. He managed to defeat the ones who were pursuing her, but there were at least thirty of them in the town, and he had to retreat. The others… Our men searched every inch of the place… Not even the children or elderly were spared," Gokudera replied with barely contained anguish.

"We should have had people down there, Gokudera. Guarding the town. This is my fault…" Tsuna cradled his head in his hands, the picture of despair.

"We couldn't have known the Millefiore would attack them."

Although logical, the words offered neither man comfort.

"You're right. Thank you, Gokudera," Tsuna said, appearing composed once more.

Gokudera certainly didn't feel as if he deserved his Boss' gratitude, so he simply inclined his head and left the office.

Over the next few days, Gokudera increased the patrols around the compound and the surrounding land in hopes that the extra vigilance would prevent another surprise attack. He needed to be careful not to spread their forces too thin, but he had to at least do _something_. They had already been caught off guard twice in the span of two weeks; he wasn't about to let it happen again. But there were no further attacks during this time, and Ryohei was able to focus on recuperating under the medical staff's care. However, the staff seemed to be more worn out at the end of each day than the patient, and several had even put in complaints to Gokudera in hopes that he could talk to the other Guardian.

Gokudera could tell that several days of being confined to bed did not agree with the man. Twice already, Ryohei had been caught trying to sneak out of his room in order to complete his daily training regimen. The fact that there was a two-story drop from his window didn't seem to faze the restless man. Even as Gokudera stood outside the sick room, he could see the nurses trying unsuccessfully to stop Ryohei from doing sit-ups on the floor and to return to his bed.

Getting fed up with their inefficiency, Gokudera decided to take matters into his own hands. Five long strides took him to Ryohei's side, where he joined in the effort. But despite his contributions of yelling, swearing, and increasingly violent threats, the result was the same.

"You should be in bed, you idiot!" Gokudera said for what felt like the fiftieth time since he had entered the room.

"I've been in bed for the past week! I can't take it anymore!"

"It's only been three days, and you'll never get better if you don't rest!"

"I'll never get better if I don't train!"

"That makes no sense, you _dumbass_."

"I make extreme sense! That is the boxer's way!"

Gokudera smacked his palm against his forehead.

Five minutes into the argument, and Ryohei was on his third set of sit-ups, while Gokudera was ready to knock the stubborn idiot out and simply toss him back onto the bed. He figured a concussion could only help matters at this point. He was just about to threaten the boxer again when a nurse appeared in the doorway.

"Excuse me, sir, but the doctor has requested that you meet him in the female patient's room," she said, looking at the Storm Guardian.

He frowned. Had something happened to the woman? Or had she done something—had she _escaped_? As soon as the thought occurred to him—that maybe she had been an enemy infiltrator after all—he tore down the hall to the other side of the medical bay where her room was located.

When he threw the door open, it was with some relief that he realized the woman was still lying on the bed, the doctor leaning over her. Regaining his composure, he strode to the doctor's side. That was when Gokudera noted the woman's labored breathing, how her previously pale skin was now flushed pink, and the heat that radiated from her in waves. Her eyes were open, but they appeared so dim, he couldn't tell if she actually saw anything of what went on around her.

"Does she have a fever?" a voice asked from behind.

Gokudera turned to find Ryohei peering over his shoulder, having apparently followed him from the other room. He rolled his eyes, but didn't bother telling the guy off, knowing it would only be a wasted effort.

"The symptoms would indicate so," the doctor began, "but her recuperation was going smoothly. There were no indicators leading up to this condition. It's almost as if it simply came on overnight."

He motioned for a nurse, and she walked over with a set of test tubes and a needle. After he had taken a sample of the woman's blood, he hooked her up to a ventilator and led the Guardians outside the room.

"Do you have any idea what it could be?" Gokudera asked.

The doctor shook his head. "We'll run some additional tests on her blood to see what it could be. But for now, all we can do is keep her under surveillance and hope her condition doesn't get worse."

"While you're at it, you should also test this idiot," Gokudera said, jerking a thumb at Ryohei beside him.

"I don't need tests, I am extremely fine!" Ryohei declared, causing Gokudera to cringe.

"Didn't you hear him, dumbass? He said the woman was perfectly fine too when this suddenly happened!"

"It would probably be best if we checked, just in case," the doctor added. "The two of you came in together, so it's possible that you were infected without realizing it, and it just hasn't hit yet."

Grudgingly, Ryohei agreed to the tests, although he still insisted he was perfectly healthy.

* * *

Two days later, Ryohei was back on his feet and as energetic as ever; some things never changed. Watching him bouncing around the courtyard, as happy to be out of the hospital as the doctors and nurses were to have him gone, Gokudera felt the knot in his stomach ease a little.

The woman's condition, however, had not shown any improvements since the onset of her strange condition. Once he had found out about her illness, Tsuna had personally gone down to check up on her, leaving Gokudera to watch by a window in the hall, looking down at the antics of the overly energetic Guardian.

When Ryohei returned inside, Gokudera just figured he had just gotten bored of running around and punching the air like an idiot. But a few minutes later, the man reappeared at the end of the hall and began heading straight for him. With a groan, he glanced toward the closed door opposite the window, willing his Boss to emerge from within. When that didn't happen, he turned in the opposite direction and quickly walked away in an attempt to escape the oncoming nuisance. Luck was not on his side, however; the boxer had already caught up.

* * *

Although she had been asleep, he still assured her everyone was doing their utmost to figure out what was wrong and make her better. Taking in her weak and frail appearance, Tsuna felt the helplessness that came with being physically unable to do to anything to aid the situation. It was a feeling that had become all too frequent lately. Patting her hand comfortingly, he got up to leave. When he opened the door, he saw Ryohei and Gokudera standing outside.

"How is she, Sawada?" Ryohei asked.

Tsuna shook his head to indicate that there had been no change. "What are you doing here, brother?"

"Since I've fully recovered now, I thought maybe I could try healing her with my sun flames," Ryohei answered.

"And _I_ told him it was a stupid idea, because he should be conserving his energy for the next Millefiore attack," Gokudera interjected, looking to Tsuna for agreement.

Tsuna, however, had grasped onto the boxer's suggestion with something akin to hope. "Do you think it could really work?"

"We won't find out until we try," Ryohei replied.

Just then, a movement in the distance caught Gokudera's eye. "Hey, doc!" he called out, waving the doctor over to their group. "We should at least get a professional medical opinion first," he said, privately hoping the guy would shoot this plan down.

The doctor addressed the Vongola Boss politely, "Is there anything I can do for you, Tenth?"

"Ah, yes. We were thinking of letting Ryohei try to heal the patient with his sun flames, but we wanted your opinion first."

The doctor appeared curious. "I've heard about the healing properties of these sun flames. It almost sounds too spectacular to be true."

"It sounds like he thinks we shouldn't do it. Oh well, we tried."

"That's not what he said, Octopus-head!"

"You just don't know how to read between the lines, muscle-head!"

Tsuna tried to calm his two friends, afraid their shouting was disturbing the patient in the room behind him.

"Uh… If I may?" the doctor interrupted the two arguing men. When they had turned their attention to him, he continued. "The fact is, we still haven't found what's afflicting Miss Tanaka. And despite giving her the usual treatment for the symptoms she's showing, they've had no effect. If these sun flames are as reliable as I've heard, perhaps they can do what our medicine can't."

"Then let's hurry," Tsuna urged.

The group entered the woman's room. Despite the earlier noise, she had not awoken.

Ryohei sat down on the chair by the bed. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a yellow box from within. Forming his hand into a fist, a yellow flame flared from the Vongola Ring on his finger. The flame was inserted into the box's opening; the folds shot open, leaving a small glowing scalpel in his bandaged palm.

First, he un-wrapped the bandages on the girl's arm until her bare limb was exposed. Although it had been nearly a week since she had gotten the injury, her wound still looked fresh, as if it had not healed at all. Ryohei applied the blade of the scalpel to the wound, slowly running it across her skin. After a few seconds, her arm had formed a scab where the skin was joined together with stitches. Soon after, the scab began to fall off in flakes, leaving a faint scar behind. It appeared that things were proceeding smoothly.

Just as the assembled men were sighing in relief, the monitors that were hooked up to the patient began beeping urgently, startling the group. Before anyone could figure out what was going on, the woman's slim frame started thrashing violently on the pallet; every part of her body seemed to move independently of the rest, flying in all directions before crashing back down with great force, and then lifting up again to continue the frantic dance.

The doctor rushed forward, pushing aside Ryohei to get to the patient. He spread his arms out and ordered everyone to stay back. He then rolled the woman onto her side.

"What's happening?"

"She's having some sort of seizure."

"Shouldn't we hold her down or something?"

"No! That could result in injury. Somebody get me a nurse!"

Ryohei turned to do as asked, but ended up collapsing on the floor. A second later, he began mimicking the woman. It was as if some unseen force was causing his body to lift from the ground before forcing him to crash back onto the hard linoleum floor.

"Shit," the doctor muttered. "Somebody help me get him on the other bed!"

Gokudera ran over to his friend and grabbed his legs, the doctor had him beneath the arms, and Tsuna had his arms wrapped around Ryohei's midsection. Together, the three of them lifted the violently flailing man and quickly placed him on the slightly softer surface of the hospital bed before rolling him onto his side as well. Then they watched and waited.

A minute later, the woman's movements had stopped; Ryohei's followed soon after. Just then, a nurse rushed into the room, having noticed the abnormalities on her monitor outside. The doctor immediately began giving her instructions.

"What the _fuck_ is going on? What the hell just happened?" Gokudera demanded.

The doctor didn't reply. Instead, he checked the woman's breathing and searched for signs of any injuries acquired in the episode. Gokudera noticed the man leaning further down to examine something, so he walked over with Tsuna for a closer view.

There was a collective intake of breath when they saw what had caught the man's attention. Her newly-formed scar had turned black along its edges, with inky lines leading from the sides, coloring the veins in her arm and spreading out in all directions. They reached down to her hand and up to her upper arm.

"This can't be," the doctor muttered. "We checked her for infection. This wasn't here before."

Moving over to Ryohei, who had lost consciousness at some point, the doctor checked the areas where his injuries had been, but found no abnormalities on his skin. When he untied the bandages on the boxer's hands, he began muttering to himself. Tsuna and Gokudera could only stand on the sidelines and wait for an explanation.

When the doctor finally reported his preliminary findings, it didn't shed much light on what had caused the reactions they had witnessed.

"Judging by its location… I would guess some sort of infection." He lifted up a slender arm, pointing at the lines that stained the skin. "See how the lines originate from where her wound used to be?" Next, he waved them over to Ryohei's bedside and showed them what he had discovered.

The sight shocked both men. There were black lines tracing the veins in the boxer's hands. Pushing up the jacket's sleeve, it could be seen that they had spread upward as well. But unlike the woman, the black lines on Ryohei's body appeared to have begun in his hand, spreading up his arm from there.

"Does this mean her infection spread to Ryohei when he used his flames to heal her?" Tsuna asked anxiously. "Is that even possible?"

"It shouldn't be. There was no physical contact with the wound itself, and there was no opening in his hand for the infection to enter his system." The doctor paused, looking troubled. "But to be honest, I've never seen anything like this, so I… I don't know what to think."

* * *

Once Ryohei had awoken, they had questioned him about the attack, but he didn't remember much—just his knees buckling under him all of a sudden, then an excruciating pain, before waking up to everyone hovering over him. Much to his displeasure, the Sun Guardian had been put back on bed rest less than twelve hours after he'd just checked out.

The episode in the medical bay had left everyone shaken. Ever since that day, the staff had been tirelessly trying to find the source of the seizures. New blood samples had been taken from both patients, as well as everyone else who had been in the room that day. Tsuna, Gokudera, and the doctor's blood had come up clean, and they showed no signs of suffering the same ailment. When Ryohei and the woman had been re-tested, they were found to have some type of poison in their bloodstream, and the black lines on their skin were determined to be the paths of the poison in their bodies.

They had gathered in Ryohei's room that evening to hear the results of the tests, because the Sun Guardian had insisted he had a right to know. That was when they were informed that the poison had been minimal in the two patients' bloodstream prior to the attack, not enough to have had such a powerful impact. In fact, it had had almost no impact at all until the other day. But after the attack, their blood showed increased amounts of the foreign substance. From the looks of how the black lines spread more across their skin each day, the poison continued to multiply, albeit at a slower pace, and provoked no more attacks on its hosts.

"Now it's active, and will continue to spread through their bodies until…" the doctor stopped speaking, but the unspoken words hung in the air between the room's occupants. "What we haven't managed to figure out is why it took so long to activate. Perhaps if we knew that, we could understand a little more about how this poison worked—"

"The poison was _activated_," Gokudera mumbled. He was staring so intently at Ryohei that he didn't notice everyone else had turned their attention to him. "_Activated_…"

The others exchanged confused looks.

"Yeah, what about it?" Ryohei asked impatiently.

"Isn't the sun flame's property _activation_?" Gokudera asked.

"You think there were sun flames in the poison?"

He took a moment to mull it over before finally shaking his head. "Not originally, no. The doc said there wasn't enough poison in your bodies to do anything. In fact, you were even well enough to check out earlier that morning."

"Then where—" Ryohei's eyes widened as he looked down at the metal band he wore. "You're saying they were _my_ sun flames. _I_ caused the poison to spread?"

Gokudera nodded. "It's the only explanation that makes sense. That's why it only caused a reaction when you started to heal the woman."

"But wait, the poison has been multiplying since then. Even if brother's flame caused it to attack, it shouldn't be able to multiply the poison. That's not a property of the sun flame."

"No, but what flame _does_ have that attribute?" Gokudera asked, waiting for his words to sink in.

"The cloud's propagation!"

He nodded. "I think the poison was infused with cloud flames. The woman had it in her system, but the amount wasn't much, so it took a while for symptoms to show, like the fever and her wound not healing. Ryohei didn't contract it from her—he already had it, just in an even smaller dose. Then thanks to the sun flames—one summoning and one receiving—the propagation speed increased dramatically, causing seizures in both of them."

"Wait," the doctor interrupted. "Is that even possible? The poison shouldn't be able to replicate at all, and you're saying that these cloud flames can cause non-living organisms to…?" He didn't finish his sentence, because the expressions on the others' faces had already given him his answer.

This was like nothing they had ever seen before, and the room fell into a deep silence at the implications.

* * *

Gokudera scanned the area from a tower window, an agitated scowl on his features as he rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was too damn early for this crap. He had just received news that Ryohei had snuck out of his room again—to train, no doubt. He could understand the desire to stay in shape, especially given the current situation, but who knew what could set off another attack by the poison? Why couldn't that idiot just get it through his thick skull that he was in no condition for these things right now?

Although the Storm Guardian would never admit it, recent events had frightened him. He had thought he was going to lose another friend. The worst part was he wouldn't have even been able to do anything to prevent it, because despite their theories on the custom-made poison, they provided little help in the lab, and there was no progress made in creating an antidote. But they weren't going to give up; he had faith that there would be a breakthrough soon, and then Turf-Top could recover.

From his vantage point, Gokudera was able to spot the guards down below begin to stir. Something was approaching the compound from the distance. Through the binoculars he was handed, Gokudera was able to zoom in on the large animal hopping purposefully across the field.

It was Ryohei's summoned box weapon, its fur shimmering with a familiar yellow glow; the man himself was nowhere to be seen.

_That _idiot._ Was he _trying _to provoke another attack?_

By the time they had established that no enemies were tailing the animal, it was admitted into the courtyard. Several of the guards watched it from their posts, their eyes wide, never having seen a box animal so far from its owner, so far from its energy source.

Gokudera approached the kangaroo, wondering what it had been doing all the way out in the field, and why it had come back without its partner. The kangaroo appeared to recognize Gokudera, because upon seeing him, the marsupial reached into its pouch. Producing something cupped in its forepaws, it offered the item to the Guardian.

Gokudera had to fight the urge to draw back, his breath caught in his lungs.

"What direction did the box animal come from?" he snapped.

"The direction of the town," someone answered from above.

_The town. That _muscle-head.

Barking out sharp commands, he assembled a team to retrieve the Sun Guardian before he did something stupid—which was only inevitable whenever Ryohei was involved.

They set out immediately, a small group of five—enough to be a formidable force without hampering the compound's defenses. Incensed that the impulsive man had snuck out of the base and was knowingly endangering himself by using his flames, Gokudera led the retrieval team himself.

Halfway there, a brilliant light burst over the treetops from the direction of the town. The illumination was so pure it put the real sun to shame.

"Did anybody else hear that?" someone asked.

"Yeah, I heard it too. It almost sounds like… roaring," another man replied.

With mounting trepidation, Gokudera rushed forward, one arm raised to protect his eyes from the brightness. He kept running—pushing his men, pushing himself—until they reached the town. They made their way onto a broad cobblestoned street, and then cautiously proceeded toward the town square, which was the largest open space in the town. They met no opposition in the street or from the ruins of buildings on either side.

When the team finally reached the square, the sight that met them stopped them in their tracks. In the center lay at least a couple dozen black husks. If not for the obvious limbs that protruded from the main body, they might not have even been recognizably human. The men spread out to examine the bodies. The Millefiore soldiers were easily discerned by their uniforms and Family crest, and their remains comprised most of the bodies. They found one figure not sporting a crest, with its arms wrapped around a soldier's waist on the ground. The men didn't know who the person could be, but the slender frame indicated it wasn't the Sun Guardian.

While his men conducted their search, Gokudera walked between the corpses toward the other side of the plaza. All the bodies were facing this direction when they fell, so he followed the trail until he came upon the one figure that faced the opposite direction. Like all the others, the body was almost charred beyond recognition. Its position aside, this figure was nearly indiscernible from the multiple others that decorated the area, except that this one didn't bear the Millefiore insignia.

Carefully, Gokudera knelt before the body, lifting one blackened arm. When he saw what he had already known would be there, tears rolled down his face.

"We could have found a cure, damn it! Why didn't you wait?" he whispered hoarsely.

For on the right hand, he had found the sun Vongola Ring. Black smears defaced the once-beautiful ring, a permanent reminder of the star that had burned itself out; one last blaze of glory before the glimmering flame that was the Sun had flickered and died.


End file.
